The Ultimate Crime Against Holmes
by Mizuki Ukitake
Summary: Sherlock comes home to reveal upsetting news to John, who... may have overreacted.
1. Episode 1

Sherlock Holmes and John Watson are characters belonging to the Sherlock Holmes series. The following story is based off the BBC TV series adaption. This is a work of fiction and is not to be taken as an interpretation of any episode, or a rewrite of actual events.

Trigger warning: Mention of rape.  
-

Sherlock normally was home when John got home from work. Today, he wasn't. A few hours later, say about 9 p.m, he came home to the flat. Normally when he walks in theres some form of greeting- even when he's in deep thought- but today there was nothing. There was a dullness that came across the room as Sherlock walked in. He said nothing and just went straight to the bathroom, not taking off his coat or even his scarf.

John was already in the bathroom, fancying himself up in front of the mirror. He smelled of cologne and mouthwash, and was wearing his best outfit. Yes, it seemed as though he was preparing for a date tonight. "Hello Sherlock." He said as his loftmate entered the bathroom.

Sherlock looked at John and didn't say a word. The color was all drained from his face, and he seemed to be out of it. His breaths were heavy and shaky. He shook his head and went directly to the shower. He turned it on and stepped inside with all of his clothes still on. He began to rub his arms, chest, and legs vigorously as he murmured to himself. "get off get off get off get off get off"

John stopped and stared at Sherlock for a moment, memories of Baskerville rushing back. "Sherlock... is something... bothering you?" He chose his words carefully, not wanting another emotional outburst like last time. "You seem, uh... distressed."

Sherlock shook his head and pounded on the shower wall with a closed fist. At this point, he was trembling, and his mobile phone was basically destroyed from being in his pocket. He was in such a delusional state, all he cared about was washing himself from the filth of everything that had happened that day.

John looked at the clock and sighed, offering a hand to Sherlock. "Come on, you're not going to get anything taken care of like that. Come out of there and tell me what happened. I can't very well help you if you don't explain." The look on his face was one of concern, albiet a little tired.

The detective yelled out wincing away from the hand. "Get away from me!" He clenched his fists together and his his face in his arms. This wasn't something he could just talk about.

John jumped, eyes going wide in surprise. He gently reached for Sherlock's arms, trying to pull them down to at least his chest. "Sherlock.. Sherlock, calm down. It's alright, it's just me." Keeping one gentle hand on Sherlock's arm, he reached for the shower knobs, turning off the water. "Come on out of there, I'll get you a towel."

Sherlock pushed him off. "Get off!" He yelled in a fearful voice. He had no idea what he was doing, and still thought he was back in the room that he spent all day in.

John stumbled, catching himself on the bathroom counter with a huff. Trying to keep calm, he looked Sherlock over from a distance. "Alright... Alright.. I'm sorry. Would you like me to bring you some fresh clothes while you dry off?"

Sherlock shook his head and buried his head in his arms as he pulled his knees to his chest. "It hurts, John. Everything hurts!" He talked through his teeth as he spoke. "get me out of here."

John grabbed a towel and slowly moved closer, sitting beside the shower. "I need you to explain so I can understand." He offered the towel to Sherlock, assuming he still didn't want to be touched. "You don't have to tell me everything, just enough so I can properly help."

Sherlock shook his head. "you can't help. We can't go to the police with this... oh god i can hear them now! Laughing as they read the incident report on what was done to the great Mr. Holmes. Although i guess he's not so great is he? He can't even fight off a 160 pound woman! For gods sake i'd be the laughing stock of all of them, we can't go to the police, John!"

John's heart sank, and it showed on his face that he understood immediately. He dabbed lightly at Sherlock's wet hair and face with the towel. "It's alright now. You're okay now, take some deep breaths and try to calm down a little more." He pulled out his phone and cancled his date, telling the woman that he was feeling ill. "I'm all yours for the night." He said softly after hanging up.

Sherlock shook his head and hid his face in his arms, feeling his body throbbing from the things that had been done to him. He looked up at John as he slowly began to come into reality. He looked up at the shower and down at his clothes. "Why am i... And where am i...?" He asked as he looked around the bathroom. He then looked at John and his eyes softened as he spoke. "John..." there was a slight pain in his voice.

"You're alright. You're home, and, apparently, out of shock now." John set the towel down. "How are you feeling?"

Sherlock's voice was weak. He looked down and sighed. "To be honest, i'm really achy."

"Are there any injuries you think I need to check?" John asked. "Or just... general muscle soreness?"

Sherlock shook his head and shrugged. "I don't even know at this point. I'm just going to take my valium and go to sleep." He tried to get up, but let out a groan as he tried to. He shut his eyes and shook his head, feeling John's concern. "I'm... fine. At least i can get up on my own."

John stood, waiting until Sherlock was all the way up before leaving the bathroom. "Before you go to sleep, I'll get you something to eat, alright? At least for the sake of the medication."

Sherlock nodded and walked out of the bathroom with a slight waddle/limp. He went into the bedroom and engulfed himself in the covers as he pulled them over his head and tried to shut out everything.

A few minutes later, John came in with some warm soup, sitting at the edge of the bed beside Sherlock. "... do you want to tell me who it was?" He asked quietly.  
Sherlock shut his eyes tightly and murmured so that john would barely catch it. "Irene"

His heart stopped for a moment and he set the bowl on the nightstand as he let out a heavy breath. "I... I'm sorry.." A feeling of guilt swept over him. He'd had a feeling about that woman, but he had pushed it aside all this time. "I..."

Sherlock shook his head and buried himself underneath the covers. He groaned and shuddered as he tried to stop the next wave of flashbacks from coming.

"I.. brought you some soup... If you need anything, I'll be in the livingroom." He stood slowly.  
"And... I'm glad you got home alright." He turned for the door.

"Don't go to Lestrade... or mycroft.." He looked up at John. He didn't want to face the embarrassment of telling anyone else but John. Plus, lestrade was the police. and he knew if that file was in the records, any of the officers who hated him could look at it.

"Don't worry.. I won't." He looked back at his friend. "... They won't have a hand in any of this." He closed the door behind him as he left the room, sitting at his computer with a heavy sigh.

And with that, Sherlock fell asleep, not eating any of the soup, but taking the painpills.


	2. Episode 2

Sherlock's rest was peaceful for about the first 30 minutes, until the flashbacks overwhelmed him and he woke up with a gasp, shooting up out of bed with a single tear streaming down his face.

John didn't hear the gasp from the livingroom. He was too heavily focused on typing away at his computer, fingers shaking as he hit the keys at a rapid pace. He was kitting the keys so fiercely, the clickclacking filled the room.

Sherlock got up and realized it was no use trying to sleep. He got out of his wet clothes and put on a tshirt and some sweats. He looked at his arms, and the marks that she made from the restraints. He sighed and went out into the living room. He looked at John curiously as he sat on the couch.

He quickly hit the enter key and closed the tab he was on as Sherlock came out. Glancing over, his eyes immediately noticed the retraint marks. He got up and got an ice pack, bringing it over to Sherlock and pressing it against the marks on his arms. He didn't say anything, but there was a hint of anger mixed in with the concern on his face.

Sherlock frowned and looked away from John as he held out his arms, showing marks from cuffs, ropeburns, and chains. He sensed the anger from John and submitted away from it as he just kept his gaze down, not sure if he was mad at him.

"You don't have to worry, Sherlock.." John said at last. "She won't come near you again." He kept icing the marks until Sherlock's arms were nearly numb from the cold.

Sherlock frowned and gulped. "But I owe her now, John... If she needs help, i need to go help her.."

"Says who?" He asked, frowning.

Sherlock looked at John. "Says her... It makes sense. She could have killed me. She could have done so much more... Plus it was my fault it happened. I didn't deduce her intentions in time... so i got what was coming to me."

"It's not your fault, Sherlock." John said suddenly. "Don't ever say it was. Besides, if anything, she owes you. You saved her life, didn't you?"

Sherlock's face wrinkled up as he looked down hiding it. He shed a single tear and tensed up. "That's what makes me so stupid... Because i saved her life, i didn't think she would do anything to me and so i didn't feel the need to deduce her.. instead, I trusted her" he said that word with spite and grimace

"Sherlock... you are the.. LAST.. person in the world who would be classified as stupid." John looked at him with a 'are you serious?' expression. "If you're stupid, then that makes me as dead in the brain as a rock." Despite trying to stay serious, he couldn't help but snicker slightly at his own analogy, and he hoped it would lighten Sherlock's mood a little as well.

Sherlock looked at John and couldn't help but chuckle a little at the analogy. He shook his head. "You're not the dumb one. I am. I may have intelligence, but I let sentiment cloud my mind at the very worst time. The one thing i've been trained my entire life not to do, i did, and look what happened.

"Everyone makes mistakes Sherlock, but this wasn't your fault, I promise you that... Though you did give me quite a scare when you came in..." he looked at Sherlock, eyes going soft with friendly compassion.

Sherlock sighed and laid down on the couch as he looked up at John. "I don't believe you, but if it makes you feel better to tell me that then go ahead... I just want to sleep."

"I thought you were sleeping in your room anyway... Would it help you sleep if I stayed in the room with you?" Now that his anger had worn off, he could feel himself grow incredibly tired.

Sherlock sighed and frowned, looking down at his hands. "I don't know."

He took Sherlock's hand in his own, looking the detective in the eyes. "I'm here, Sherlock. Be rest-assured, I will keep you safe... Like you have always kept me safe."

Sherlock shook his head. "I don't need to be kept safe. I just-" He all of a sudden stopped mid-sentence and a pained expression came across his face as he pulled the pillow up to his face so he could hide it. Her voice flushed through his thoughts like venom. "Where's your little man candy now, hmm?" it cooed. He grunted slightly, physically feeling the memory as he shot up into a sitting position.

John frowned. "Sherlock... Are you alright?" he asked softly. "I'm sorry if I caused you to remember something."

Sherlock looked at him blankly and shook his head. "It's fine..." he said vaguely.

"I'm sorry... I didn't mean to." He looked down at the floor. "I do mean it, though... She won't come near you again, so long as there is air in my lungs." With a deep sigh, John stood, getting some tea from the kitchen and handing Sherlock a cup. "Try to relax, then get some more sleep."

Sherlock sighed and closed his eyes as he sipped at the tea. He looked at John and bit his lip a little. "What were you typing...?"

"It was nothing, really... Just... Getting some feelings out. I needed to vent." Though he tried to act casual, his body gave off somewhat subtle tell-tale signs of nervousness, hinting that he wasn't quite being truthful.

Sherlock looked at him and raised his eyebrows. "John. I'm traumatized. Not dulled. I still know when you're lying.."

He smiled in a self-mocking manner, glancing down with guilt as he shifted from one foot to the other. After a moment of thought, he looked up at Sherlock with a confident look. "As far as you want to know... I was merely venting."

Sherlock shook his head. "Tell me" he said in a stern voice. He hated it when John got like this, and he hated not knowing. He cleared his throat and continued. "Now."

John stood as though he was standing infront of a military superior. "I was emailing an old from from the military. I gave him only one name, and one set of details, strictly under the table, strictly confidential."


End file.
